


The Lake and the Liar

by StarlightInHerEyes22



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action, Arthur finds out (about Freya), BAMF!Freya, BAMF!Merlin, Established Relationship, Everyone else is confused, Freya versus Morgana, Friendship, Gen, Merlin POV, Merlin and Freya basically team up against Morgana, Nothing in any way explicit relationship-wise, True Love, just adorableness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightInHerEyes22/pseuds/StarlightInHerEyes22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped against the banks of a lake with Morgana and her men advancing, Arthur, Merlin and the knights don't look like they have much of a chance. Except for one thing. </p><p>This is no ordinary lake. And Freya does not approve of people messing with Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lake and the Liar

**Author's Note:**

> I am inordinately fond of this fic - it's another one of my older works that I decided to post. I fully intend to write a second chapter at some point, although I'm not sure if I'll be doing it this year or next. Enjoy!

They were running away. 

Again.

Except this time it wasn’t bandits or Saxons or even that barmaid Gwaine had managed to piss off somehow or another in the last village. Oh no. That would have been far too easy. 

This time it was Morgana charging after them, black skirts flying, eyes lit up with the thrill of the chase as she turned around the bend behind them and caught sight of her quarry and their ever-shrinking lead. 

On a _horse_ , in case that wasn’t apparent. 

Merlin sprinted after the knights, long legs flying over the treacherous roots and stones of the forest floor. And endless litany of _don’t trip over, don’t trip over, don’t you dare fail me now, legs,_ ran with him, fighting for dominance with a louder, more insistent chant – _oh gods, oh gods, please don’t let them start throwing fireballs. Please don’t let them have bows._

He wondered briefly what it said about his life that fireballs where his primary worry.

“What now?” Gwaine hollered from somewhere ahead of him. “Losing them in the trees isn’t working, Princess!”

“Just keep going,” was Arthur’s breathless reply, and Merlin didn’t need to see his face to know that the king was running furiously through their options in his mind. Considering that he had already done so – twice, and with a far better knowledge of the weapons that they actually had at their disposal – Merlin was well aware that they weren’t attractive. Keep running and get mowed down by the pursuing horses, probably sometime in the next five minutes. Stop and fight on foot, and still more than likely get run over like stalks of wheat, while contending with Morgana’s growing powers and the acolytes flanking around her. Or the third, less obvious option – for Merlin to do something. And then probably have his head chopped off. 

“Keep going it is,” Merlin muttered breathlessly to himself. Gwaine was right. Not only was the pounding of the small cavalry behind them growing loud enough that they must have been firmly in their pursuers sights, but the forest’s protection was growing rapidly sparser. Not exactly conducive to losing anything. Mired in these thoughts as he was, it took all of Merlin’s dubious co-ordination not to fall flat on his face and roll down the embankment that reared up suddenly beneath his feet. If he was honest, he probably only managed it on account of Percival’s arm shooting out at the last moment and catching his elbow, guiding him down. Then they were running again, and the forest ended abruptly, leaving them open to the sun’s bright assault on their senses. 

Merlin blinked rapidly, the droning _don’t trip, don’t trip_ pounding louder in his skull. Then his sight cleared, and his feet faltered anyway as he realised where they were and found himself caught somewhere between shouting in relief and cursing himself for a fool for not recognising his surroundings sooner.

The Lake of Avalon stretched out before them, cool, calm and welcoming. Merlin thought he saw something flit across its surface, too quick for a dragonfly or other skimming insect, and settled for allowing himself a small smile, which faded almost as soon as it appeared.

No. What was he thinking? He couldn’t involve her in this. It wouldn’t be fair, exposing her to danger that way. Not when she had found peace. 

This was, after all, his destiny. 

_Merlin…_

_…Freya?_

“No!” someone roared, and he glanced over, startled, to find that Arthur and the knights had stopped running too. The Lake, he suddenly realised – their possible salvation – was also blocking any further passage into the thicker woods beyond. They had been neatly trapped, between its embracing wings and the dark riders emerging from the tree-line behind them at a dignified trot.

“Merlin! What the hell are you doing? Get behind us!”

_Merlin! Quickly! My reach only extends so far!_

_But…_

_Merlin, please!_

Merlin took one look at the smirk forming on Morgana’s icy features before making up his mind, hating himself for doing so. “Into the water,” he hissed.

“Oh, great idea Merlin,” Arthur said cynically, easing his sword out of its scabbard as around him his knights copied the movement. “Let’s drown ourselves for her, shall we?”

“Would you just trust me?” Merlin snapped, keeping his voice low – and he was most definitely not begging. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he could feel her stirring somewhere behind them, waiting. _I’m so sorry_ … “That’s not just any lake, _sire_. This is Avalon. Dark magic can’t enter its waters-”

“Stay behind us,” the king growled, cutting him off angrily, and Merlin knew that he would regret displaying that kind of knowledge – and using the words _dark_ magic, he realised with a wince, as if there were good magic, too – if they got out of this. The warlock shot a pleading look at Gwaine, who gestured helplessly and drew his own sword.

“But-”

“Merlin!”

“We’ve got to do something, Sire,” Leon interrupted, sinking into a defensive stance as, just outside the forest line, Morgana dismounted her horse, her men following behind her, each and every one of them watching the cornered knights wolfishly. “There’s too many of them for us to fight.”

“Arthur, I swear, she won’t be able to follow us-” Merlin began and, much to his surprise, the prince shook his head slightly, breaking eye contact with his smirking half-sister, and actually took a step backward.

“Fine,” Arthur hissed. “Into the water. If this gets us killed, Merlin, I swear I’ll have you in the stocks for a month.”

Too relieved to care, Merlin scrambled down to the water’s edge, feeling the water splash up around his boots as he waded in a few steps. The knights followed at a more dignified pace, backing up as a group, step by step, until they were in up above their knees.

_Thank you, Merlin…_

“Still running away, Arthur?”

Morgana’s words cut through the intervening space and she strode forwards, flanked by her guard, and Merlin could have sworn that the clouds chose that exact moment to pass over the face of the sun, throwing them all into a dull shadow. 

“Hardly, Morgana,” the king called back, tightening his grip on his sword. “If it’s a fight you want, you’ll get one.”

“How kind,” the dark lady simpered, gliding forward in that way of hers that made it seem as though she had not moved at all – and yet suddenly, there she was, barely a few feet from the shoreline of the lake as the knights swords bristled uselessly. “I may just take you up on that offer, brother dearest.”

“You could walk away,” Arthur said, suddenly quiet, his eyes uncharacteristically sad and intense. “We could all just walk away.” 

Merlin could have sworn that Morgana hesitated momentarily, but he had seen this exact confrontation before and knew how it ended. “It’s too late for that, Arthur,” the witch replied, her eyes flashing hatefully. “You know that.”

“I know,” came the whispered response, and the two siblings moved together without ceremony, as if acting out scripted roles in a play – Arthur lunging forward, Excalibur flashing, as Morgana swept outwards with one hand and eyes gleaming gold. But the moment they attacked, the non-existent wind roared to life above the surface of the lake, suddenly moving and raging in patterns that shouldn’t have been possible – curving around the edge of the shore and leaving everything beyond its reach untouched. 

The king and his knights rocked backwards a few steps at the sudden onslaught, throwing up their arms in defence with all thoughts of violence forgotten and legs planted firmly apart as they fought for balance against the treacherous footing of the lake-bed. Merlin watched their violent reactions in surprise, feeling only a gentle breeze tease through his hair and tug playfully at his neckerchief, whispering in his ear, though no one seemed to notice how it left him be. Then he smiled as Morgana’s darkly shining spell met the surface of the gale and died, snuffing out like a candle-light above the smooth surface of the lake and taking the angry wind with it as suddenly as it had come.

For a few moments, nobody said anything as each side stared at the other in wary shock.

“Who did that?” Morgana demanded eventually, her gaze flicking warily back across the faces of the dozen or so acolytes standing dumbstruck around and behind her. Each one of them shook their heads frantically at their mistress’s scrutiny. The High Priestess turned back to Arthur, and Merlin saw that her eyes were wide. He wondered if perhaps she, too, could sense the stirring of the Lake’s power. “What is this?”

“I have no idea,” Arthur said with equal wariness, Excalibur once again held high. The king glanced quickly back at his servant, and Merlin felt himself die a little bit inside at the thunder in Arthur’s expression and the questioning glances of the knights. This was not going to be fun explaining. 

They stood like that for a few moments, no-one willing to break the tableau. Then Morgana shook herself, pulling up to her full height, and Merlin could almost see her convincing herself that there was nothing to be worried about. 

“This changes nothing,” the dark lady said harshly – more to herself than to her followers, Merlin thought to himself – and he tensed as she took a cautious step forward, preparing himself to stop her if he had to. One step turned into two as everyone around watched with bated breath for entirely different reasons; then two became three, and, with a triumphant expression, the witch took the final step off of the shore and into the shallows of the lake. 

Like before, the effect was instantaneous. Merlin felt the angry ripple in the water’s surface the moment Morgana so much as thought of entering its sacred waters. The moment she touched its surface, the wave roared past him, sending Arthur and the knights stumbling out of its way with shouted curses as it moved out around on either side them before sealing back together. The wall of water rose far too quickly for any natural phenomenon, reaching chest height in the space of a few metres and slamming into Morgana with the force of a wreaking-ball, sending her tumbling back onto the shore with an undignified shriek. But no-one missed the way the water seemed to crash into an invisible wall at the shoreline, rearing upwards between the two sides before splashing back down into the lake and settling as though it had never been; leaving all beyond it as dry as ever. 

Morgana made her way shakily back to her feet, brushing off the assistance of one of her acolytes with one hand clutching at her chest, and Merlin could have sworn that he saw the first stirrings of fear in her eyes. “What is this, brother?” she asked, but the mockery in her voice seemed far too forced. “Playing with forces that you don’t understand? You and our father always were hypocrites.”

“I don’t-” Arthur started, bewildered, but Morgana took his momentary distraction as an opportunity to lunge again – only to collapse to the ground with a muffled scream, half in and half out of the water. Everyone save Merlin took a few steps backwards, eyes wide and searching frantically for the source of the obvious magic as the witch twitched, trying to get back to her feet and failing. It was as if the surface of the lake itself had gotten hold of her, running up her arms and over her shoulders like quicksand and refusing to let go, and as Merlin watched his once-friend began to panic, heaving against its hold. Gold lit up her eyes then faded, then flared into being again and again as she struggled until the effort left her panting. 

“ _What is this_?” Morgana demanded with a snarl, her acolytes chancing a few steps forwards as the knights watched on in horror. “Stay back! Whoever it is who protects the pretender to the throne, show yourself! Face me, traitor! Unless you are too much of a coward!”

_It is not I who is the traitor to our kind, Morgana Pendragon…_

_Freya, no!_ Merlin shouted, but the only response that he got as the barest hint of a smile flashing across his mind before the lake’s waters began to boil around him. 

Wavelets ran across the surface of the lake, meeting that same invisible barrier as their larger brethren had before. Out of the corner of his eyes, Merlin saw Arthur and the knights begin to stumble around drunkenly against the force of the water’s displacement, but he was too busy focusing on the light growing beneath the water’s surface around them to really care. Morgana, he saw, was watching with the same mixed fascination and dread. 

He didn’t entirely know what he was expecting. A flash of light, a wall of water, perhaps. But maybe he should have known better, for hadn’t he seen her emerge, even partially, before? The lake abruptly stilled, the waves ceasing and the light fading ominously. 

_I will face you, if that is your wish…_

And then, just like that, she broke the surface, cutting it cleanly and without ceremony, the water pouring off of her and running down the dark material of her dress as she straightened and stood firm in the shallows between Merlin and his knights, and Morgana and her men. 

“…for you are not welcome here, Morgana Pendragon, nor shall you ever be.”

“Who are you?” Morgana breathed, and Merlin could only watch, his eyes shining, as Freya stood tall and proud. 

“I am the guardian spirit of this place, Morgana. I am the Lady of the Lake.” 

“If you are of magic, then we are one and the same,” Morgana insisted, still struggling to rise. “We are sisters against the tyranny of the Pendragons! You should not be protecting him!”

“But Arthur Pendragon is not the one I am protecting,” Freya said softly, and Merlin’s heart jumped up into his throat. “Did you think that your dealings with the Cailleach, even so many years ago, would go unnoticed, Morgana le Fay? When you broke the Veil, your Doroccha nearly took someone precious from me… and if I hadn’t sent my Villia, they might have succeeded. You and I will never be the same.”

“Whoever it is,” Morgana panted, “step aside and I swear that I will leave them unharmed. Let me up, and you can be revered by the Old Religion once more! Step aside!”

“No,” Freya said gently. “Never.” 

“Then _die_!” Morgana screeched, her eyes flashing gold, and a pillar of darkness roared out of no-where, rushing forwards and enveloping the lake spirit entirely. 

“Freya!” Merlin screamed as the shadows twined and pulsated in a fathomless ball where his love had been standing, feeling his heart shatter into a thousand pieces as fear ripped through him. The ball bloomed outwards, cracks of blue light appearing in its sides and fighting to break free – and then it contracted again, and Merlin heard Morgana laugh.

“ _No_!” he roared, not caring that Arthur and the knights were staring at him, or that Morgana was watching with unconcealed glee in her eyes. He didn’t care. He darted forwards towards the mess of darkness, through the churning waters of the lake, but someone grabbed hold of him and pinned him to their chest, and he thought he heard Gwaine’s voice telling him to calm down, to stop and listen, above the roaring of his heart, the thrashing of his limbs and his own shouting voice. 

_Oh ye of little faith…_

Merlin stopped fighting and hung limply from Gwaine’s arms, staring at the ball as something inside it heaved at its boundaries again, more strongly this time, and the cracks of light grew larger. 

_Freya._

_Merlin. Help me._

_Always._

Merlin poured out his soul. 

And the ball of darkness exploded in a maelstrom of light, gold and blue entwined within each other, each making the other seem brighter, like the light of the sun and the moon.

White filled Merlin’s vision, and for a few moments there was nothing. He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, and when he opened them, he found himself the only one standing, the Lake’s waters lapping at his knees. Morgana lay outstretched on the shore, her eyes closed, her tangled hair fanning out around her. Her acolytes were simply gone. He glanced backwards, and saw that Arthur and the knights were all on their knees, drenched from head to toe, still shaking their heads blearily. And Freya…

Freya was floating, the lake’s surface dancing beneath her. Her hair whipped to and fro in the warm breeze, water like invisible armour running across her skin. She looked unharmed, a small smile curving across her features. Perfect. 

“Oh, Merlin. It would take much more than that to kill someone who is already dead.”

“I know.”

Morgana groaned, and the both of them turned back to face her as the witch stumbled to her feet. 

“What…” Morgana began, her eyes blinking rapidly. “That’s… not possible…”

“Nothing is impossible,” Freya replied, her eyes sorrowful. “Leave, Morgana. While you are still able. Never bother this place again.”

“I…

“And, Morgana? I am not the only one watching over these people. Remember that.”

A hunted look crossed over the witch’s features, and Merlin almost felt bad for her. Then her eyes found his, the hateful glare twisting her face; something in the look promising him that whatever lay between them, it wasn’t over. 

And then, with a shouted word and a roar of wind, she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This was pretty much my very first attempt at writing anything vaguely romantic. I know that the start's a touch dodgy, but I smile every time I read the ending to this first chapter. Hopefully you enjoyed it too ^_^ Let me know what you think? *puppy eyes*


End file.
